Take Me to the Ocean and Leave Me There
by Killer Moth
Summary: Jack is having the dream where he is swimming toward the elusive island. Except, this time, he deals with a more delectable hindrance. My first PWP, rated M for oral.


Disclaimer: I know I can't own Law and Order but could I have Sam and Angie instead?

Author's Note: After the heavy drama that was "Asequui", I thought writing a fluffy lemon would be a much needed change of pace. I got the idea from Jack's little monologue about his childhood dream to Abbie from Refuge (I finally caught a re-airing and much to my surprise, it's re-airing again tonight on TNT) and this odd lemon I read long ago from a rather surprising fandom. Not much else to say beyond that really.

Timeline: Post Refuge, I guess.

Beta: PureSakuraMelody. I am surprised I haven't freaked her out with the weird writing…yet.

Ready Go!

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Jack is dreaming about the mysterious island and the ominous blue ocean once again.

He senses that it is a dream—particularly as he has experienced it before—as he recalls the lack of purity in New York's bodies of water and the industrialization of the surrounding islands. The last time he had the dream was during his time with Claire; he ironically reached the island while she was a topless native—the only occasion the dream would turn sexual. In recent memory, he informed Abbie of it a while ago, using generalities.

He notices the slicked raven black hair dangling in the corners of his peripheral vision as opposed to his normal graying hair. In addition, he realizes he has undergone a newfound youth—being at least twenty to thirty years younger. Usually his age in the dreams matches the one in reality, whereas right now he is young. Why? Of course, that would be the least of his questions, as he found himself suspiciously nude and feeling the cerulean water undulate all over his body.

After wading in the widespread sea and surveying his surroundings, he commences to swim to the island now in view. The New York E.A.D.A. wishes he knew why he swam ever so pointlessly to this island every time, with little to no variation. Pushing that rarity with Claire aside, he continues his course. Curious as to why the verdant mountains have not yet arisen, he sustains his speed until he hears a soft female chortle.

The water extends out to miles upon miles with not another living being around. Ignoring the odd resonance, he resumes. However, the tittering has not ceased, finishing with a murmur of approval. With only him and his soaked hair, the only possible source for such a sound could be underwater. Intrepid as ever, he inhales deeply, submerges himself into the depths, and cannot believe his eyes—there is a mermaid staring back at him, scanning his appearance in the shallow distance.

From her human half, she has an exotic look as shown by her caramel tint. The murky waters obscure her face yet there is enough light for him to note at least partly her oddly familiar facial outline. The man could not deny the beauty lying without. Complete with the added refinements of having his original hair color and being as topless as he is.

His eyes then wander down to the rest of her body to examine the impossible smooth transition of her human skin to iridescent vermillion scales. Combined with her tan skin, she is a striking creature indeed, certainly when compared to human females. As to what the scales cover, it is nothing but a complete tail, with no leg type appendages underneath and sporting a diminutive pair of ventral fins (Jack discerns the lack of a ventral opening) and widening out the tip with a set of flukes or flippers.

She tentatively approaches him. The mature gentleman stiffens and mentally lists his options: he could swim fast and far—futile as she has the natural advantage—or he could attack the mermaid and disorient her, but he could not see himself actually doing harm to her. The most tantalizing alternative of all is to simply scrutinize her and wait for her next move.

She encircles him and gazes into him. The E.A.D.A. yearns to follow suit but the darkness still shrouds her bewitching face. She passes by him and her tail caresses his thigh. With his schoolboy blush, he awaits her next move, as does the rest of his body— as demonstrated by a budding erection.

Before he could contemplate his move, he chokes after being in underwater for too long. He tears through the water, hoping to reach the surface in time. He gasps loudly as he breaks through and breathes in with all the energy he can muster. Jack cocks his head northward and sees the island within reach, yet he has mixed feelings: swim to the island or stay with the mermaid. The choice is moot anyway as he is being tugged into the depths.

He sucks in one final breath before engaging with her once again, their faces barely an inch apart. If he could, he would growl in frustration because of her hidden face but he doesn't want to startle her. Perceiving his tension, she leers at him before tilting forward to kiss him on the lips. Passionate is an understatement as her tongue gently but forcibly probes his mouth.

Exploiting such an opportunity, he vacuums in a breath and performs reverse C.P.R. While he focuses on his breathing, his rigid erection rubs hard against her stomach. Dream or not, nothing has ever been as intense as this. The erection isn't lost on the hybrid as she rubs back gingerly at first before amplifying the effect. His body overrun by lust, the gentleman utterly surrenders as he instinctively returns her gyrations.

She ceases but proceeds to kiss his neck, leaving what the parlance calls a hickey. Pausing to appraise her handiwork, she smiles warmly before carrying on back to his neck. She leisurely creates a path from his neck to his chest before descending towards his throbbing penis. Jack cranes his head down and catches her eyes upon him, maintaining eye contact the whole time. Needless for her, certain body parts of the E.A.D.A. provide sufficient evidence that she has his undivided attention.

He ruminates how much time has elapsed but he is no longer concerned. There were much more agonizing ways to die in reality or in this instance, exit the dream. She lingers at ogling his nether regions and whimpers in disappointment as biology dashes her true craving—thus leading her to an epiphany and comprehending the only human boon that a mermaid is capable of granting. Recognizing her apparent turmoil (and the fact he is practically out of oxygen), he lowers himself down and kisses her lips to assure her before latching to her shoulders and swim to the surface once again. Besides catching his breath, he'll finally see her face and end the torture.

His head splashes out of the water but she wiggles away before he could drag her up to his level. He would have panicked, however her tapered fingers assuage him otherwise by brushing against his tip before she decides to stroke him. The man prove to be torn as while above he could breath, but below, he could go on seeing into her bottomless mahogany eyes. His preference becomes easy as she takes him into her mouth.

His breath hisses through clenched teeth at the unbearable sensation of instant searing wetness. Stands of gray hair cascade down his face—his only conclusion is that she is draining the youth out of him. Having enough air, he sinks back in the water yet again while that burning moisture engulfs him and will not conclude until she possesses all of him. A routine would form with the briefest of pauses, an extended lick on the underside of his shaft, and then the same aching slowness in a seemingly never-ending cycle. He sought to nudge the hair away from her face but naturally, his body is paralyzed—all part of her domination of Hang Em Hang McCoy.

She detours temporarily by administrating butterflies kisses on his engorged head, before restarting back on his shaft, not as profound as before but more of a faster tempo. Her hand slithers down, wraps her fingers below the focal point of her oral intentions, and bobs her head up and down. Jack has no words—he couldn't even gel them in his mind while he is being tenderly conquered by his mermaid. The viridian mountains finally elevate to the surface, yet there is no care as he squirms and writhes by this stunning creature's ministrations.

As the peaks augment themselves, the dimness of the ocean fades and he can at last distinguish her face. He glimpses down to eye her one final time but the climax overwhelms him. Despite that, he obtains his coveted peek of her, crunches forward, and his eyes converge to another pair of eyes instead—the same as the mermaid's. A third and final spasm, Jack collapses on the bed as he regulates his breathing.

"And a good morning to you, too, Jack," said a familiar Southern drawl.

After resting for a moment, he props himself on his elbows and watches intently his equally undressed girlfriend wiping at the corner of her mouth with the edge of her hand.

"Good morning is an understatement right now," he quipped.

In response, Abbie dusts off that smile and snuggles herself against him. He wraps his hands around her, enjoying her warmth and suppleness, in addition to her aggressive spirit. After a month of finally liberating her from the trauma of her rape with his assistance, they've experimented with all sorts of sexual positions and the occasional fetishes. Granted, she has little experience in this area but he is more than willing to be patient and be her instructor.

Reeling from the aftershock and appreciating this dream's enhanced quality (even better than the time with Claire)—most interesting indeed, he thinks. The E.A.D.A.'s lover has a bit of sweat on her yet manufacturing a fascinating scent—he couldn't even begin to describe it. She pushes away from him and rolls off to the edge of the bed after several minutes pass, she stretches and yawns and says "You're quite welcome, Jack, but I think it's time we both started thinking about showers and getting ready for work."

He grins and advances toward her; she presses her hand by his chest and shoves him back.

"_Separate_ showers, Hang Em High McCoy or we might have to call in sick…_again_. I don't think our bosses or the criminal justice system would appreciate that," she jovially chides.

He snorts up a laugh as he admires the supermodel features of Abbie's backside while she ventures to the bathroom. She is right, however—he needs to prepare himself for work and dole out his share of innocence and guilt for a living. A few moments of luxuriating in bed, hearing water run in the bathroom, Jack stands and slips on a pair of sweatpants, and heads for the kitchen of his apartment. Busy making coffee and breakfast before the firebrand Texan cleans herself off, he reflects on his being…strangely energized.

While it is not the first time he would be awakened like that—a disastrous head-bumping-underneath-his-desk incident, with his ex-assistant Sally Bell swiftly comes to mind—it is the first time of the energy of the act turned to such a electrifying and intoxicating charge. Waiting for the coffee to churn, he muses on what sort of dreams his Abbie might awaken from, and his plans to lend her his own helping hand or put those oration lessons to proper use.

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I got the idea from the Daria lemon "Till Human Voices Wake Us" by Mr. Bigglesworth and the rest wrote itself. Leave a review if you wish, hope you were entertained, and see you in the funny papers.


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